Dominatrix
by BBCRULES
Summary: Irene Addler might have helped the detective. Revised a little. 201-post Reichenbach. Comments are very welcome. Thanks. p.s Got to change the title, too.


The woman amazes me. She is the only woman that Sherlock treats as his equal. Timeline 201-after the fall. Based on a nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think. Britpick would be greatly appreciated:)

* * *

**Karachi, Pakistan**

"When I say run, run!"

The glinting blade danced around. Screams, footsteps, confusion... Her eyes sparkled. Her lips curved into a smile. Soon at least five of the men fell on the ground; their bodies trembled, immobilized from stabbing. A mixed smell of dusts, sweats, and blood touched her nostrils. Wincing a little, the woman ran and jumped into a truck nearby, and he followed. She started the truck. It was a pure luck that there were only half a dozen men there. The terrorists had lowered their defense – it was a beheading of an unarmed woman: how many would you need? Sherlock flung her mobile onto her laps. A few bullets wheezed by yet the truck had already turned around a corner. The truck protested loud when she sped up.

"Seatbelt!"

The woman yelled while pushing the accelerator. The truck jolted on the unpaved bumpy road.

"What seat belt?"

The detective shouted back, grabbing the door handle and back of his seat for support. A thing from the old Soviet Union in the eighties…There was no such thing as seat belt in the truck. The two burst into laughter, as though they were teenagers on a first date.

"Shall I drive?"

"Mr. Holmes, I'm sure I can manage! Look out!"

"Ouch"

Sherlock bumped his head hard on the ceiling and had to let her keep on driving. The headlight crawled along the road. The detective turned on his mobile's GPS, well knowing that his brother would hear about his little adventure soon. After an hour, they abandoned the truck and caught a taxi to downtown, Karachi.

Two hours later, the detective and the woman were sitting in the lounge of the Sheraton Karachi hotel. They would leave in a few hours: Sherlock back to London and the woman to an unknown destination. He didn't ask. Drinking in the woman who had changed into a blue suit, Sherlock wondered why he took all these troubles; searched for the woman; and infiltrated into a terrorist cell.

_Was it the quaint chivalry? Uggh. I'm becoming like Mycroft. _

The detective ignored the annoying feeling. He had taken away her protection so he felt "partially" responsible for her safety. The woman asked,

"Your brother doesn't know your little trip, right? What about Dr. Watson?"

"They think I'm in France... Mycroft will soon find out."

"Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Holmes? I owe you one."

Silence followed. Irene drank half of her tea, giving the man time to select his next words. He asked,

"Moriarty..."

The woman's eyes bore into his eyes with a question that she had dared to ask. After all he had come all the way to rescue her from death.

_Was this brainy man jealous? Was it the reason he deduced the key-code to my camera phone so fast?_

Her mouth curved into a wry smile. Her shoulders slouched a little for she couldn't find something that she had hoped for. His face had the usual nonchalance; his voice was steady.

_I'm the dominatrix. I don't succumb to sentiment._

Blinking her eyes, the woman started talking about the consulting criminal: the first contact, subsequent calls and texts exchanged... In disappointment, she didn't see it: that the detective regarded her as the only woman of his equal in his life.

* * *

**221b, London**

Flipping the woman's camera phone, Sherlock looked outside the window. Rain drizzled all day. He could hear the door shut: John must be out to return her file to Mycroft. John was a terrible liar- the doctor was fidgety and hesitative. Mycroft must have said that Ms. Addler was killed a few months earlier in Karachi; then he fed a story of a witness protection program in America. It was a stern warning from his brother.

_You owe her so I let it go this time. You shall not see her again. She'd better behave or she will bear a grave consequence, and you won't be able to intervene, dear brother._

He deliberately deleted the warning. His mind was revisiting the hotel lounge in Karachi: _what did the woman say? _

0-0-0-0-0

"A dead body gets listened to, Mr. Holmes. That's how you and your brother found about my death, wasn't it? Did you really believe that body on the slab was me?"

He shook his head slightly. Most of all, the bashed face of the body was questionable, let alone fingerprints. DNA test results could be manipulated. It couldn't be Irene Addler's lifeless body despite the resemblance. Yet the detective had decided to play along. With a faint smile, she continued,

"I knew you'd know. Moriarty had jumped at my request without charging any fee. He wanted to catch your attention."

"What's his next move?"

"The ball is in your brother's court. Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock made a mental note to contact his brother when he got back to London. Moriarty had already decided that they could not exist together: one had to die if the other was to live. Then a mysterious phone call changed his mind.

_A wrong day to die…_

He questioned to himself, "_When would be a right day to die?"_

She didn't hear him and continued.

"What I can tell you, Mr. Holmes, is that Moriarty is a very dangerous man. He is obsessed with you. He usually works alone; I saw his face once briefly. But he did send one of his men to me when I had to get a fake body."

The detective raised his eyes.

"Can you describe the man?"

"He was a tall, blonde man with a military bearing. He talked little, but he let slip that he had been in Kabul for a few years."

"From the army, Afghanistan?"

"I guess so. "

"How did he let it slip?"

" My assistant, Kate dropped her father's crossed rifles badge on the table when she brought out tea. Her father was found dead with a gunshot in his head long ago. The army said it was a suicide, but Kate didn't buy it. She carried the badge all the time. That man recognized the badge, picked it up, and talked about the army for a few minutes with Kate."

"Is Kate in a safe place?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He talked about APWT and bragged about his scores. He must have a good marksmanship."

"You don't know his name or rank."

"No."

"What else did he say?"

"He told me that a suicide is the only death that nobody listens to. He seemed to sympathize with Kate."

0-0-0

"Sherlock."

Snapping back to his flat, the detective turned around to look at his flatmate. He didn't hear the door. John's eyes were wide open in alarm. Sherlock realized that he was still holding the camera phone. With a grimace, he tossed it into the drawer and returned to his chair for further experiment. He felt John's eyes glued on his face yet tried to ignore his staring. The sleuth felt exposed, which was very uncomfortable.

For the next few days, the doctor saw to it that Sherlock didn't stay alone in the building. He even cancelled his blind date after the boring teacher. Once Sherlock had to use a nicotine patch; John found the used patch in the bin; his lips pursed into a thin line, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

**Holmes Manor, sometime after the verdict**

Photos of a bleak grey cell were scattered on the desk. Moriarty had certainly outdone himself during his imprisonment. All those scribbles, drawings and scratches on the wall. Only one name. Sherlock. Two brothers were rather somber; the older Holmes wondered,

_How far would Moriarty go to destroy Sherlock?_

Sherlock was pondering over the meaning of burning your heart. The dead cabbie called Moriarty a big fan of his. His cases before _Study In Pink_ case must have drawn the interest of the criminal mastermind. The mysterious visitor to his website... Now the detective knew who the anonymous visitor was.

_I'll burn the heart out of you._

Something had changed Moriarty's mind that day. It couldn't be just the woman's call. There had to be something bigger. The dominatrix, the compromising photos of a royal female member, the Queen, the woman's request for compensation and protection, the British government... Irene Addler caught the attention of Mycroft Holmes; his brother pushed him into the path of the woman; the woman made him dance... She wanted money and Moriarty wanted Mycroft to take notice. Chills went through his spine. Moriarty's target was Mycroft Holmes. The younger Holmes gasped,

"He wants you, Mycroft. He's using me to get to you and he'll burn your heart by destroying me."

Mycroft poured more tea yet spilled at least half of it. Hoarsely he muttered out,

"How would he destroy you, Sherlock? You said he visited you on the day of the verdict."

Sherlock sat down in front of a computer and turned it on. In his hurry, his hand brushed aside a couple of files on the desk. He picked them up and saw that was about the summary of the military badges and insignia currently in use. He froze with his mind locked in his mind-palace, searching for the last encounter with the woman.

_Kate, her father, suicide, the crossed rifles badge, the mysterious army veteran... He must have an excellent marksmanship. The pool and the red dots, the presence of snipers, the fall, I owe you a fall, well-known snipers nesting near 221B... the key code... Wait, the key-code was too obvious. What if the three break-ins were the old-style inside jobs? The key code may be a red herring... He was acquitted... My testimony didn't work... _

_What did that veteran guy say? A suicide is the death that no one listens to... A dead body gets attention from people. _

He woke up from his trance and found his brother turned paler. Sherlock whispered,

"He may employ snipers again."

The younger brother described his last meeting with Irene Addler in Karachi. Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, but he acknowledged the usefulness of the information from the woman. He ordered his assistant to get data on army veterans that fitted Sherlock's descriptions.

On his way back to the Baker Street, Sherlock realized that they hadn't bickered even for a moment.

* * *

**221B**

Sherlock flipped a red envelope front and back a few times. Someone had slipped it on the doorstep of the sitting room. The burning color of red... He had seen this sometime ago. Curiously he opened the envelope and found a small sheet of paper. Unfamiliar feminine handwriting filled the page. It was a nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty.

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.__  
__Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.__  
__All the king's horses and all the king's men__  
__Couldn't put Humpty together again! _

He paced around the sitting room, mumbling the nursery rhyme. The crimson red flashed in front of his eyes.

_A wall, a great fall, the king's men, couldn't put the Humpty again... fall...fall... The fall's going to start very soon. I owe you a fall, Sherlock..._

He stopped.

_Red... The woman. Her lipstick...Mantelpiece... The Christmas present that had her camera phone... _

It was the warning from her. No postage. Apparently no fingerprints... John was away to visit his sister. He grabbed his coat and headed to Bart's. Molly Hooper kept glancing at the detective who took samples from the paper and began to analyze them. After hours, the sleuth disposed all the samples and grinned. He took a cab and visited Holmes manor.

The next day, the U.S. Ambassador Mr. Bruhl asked Sherlock Holmes to find his kidnapped children.

* * *

**A hotel room, a week after the fall.**

A woman in the transparent green nightgown was reading newspapers: her breakfast was forgotten, completely untouched. Her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

_A fake. No one should believe this non-sense. Who is this bitch, Kitty Riley, anyway?_

Among all the people that she had met, he was the most brilliant mind. He was… beautiful. His face... pale complexion, cheeky bones, his penetrating eyes, his low voice... Her eyes burned. Heaving a big sigh, she took away the newspapers that she had read. Beneath newspapers was an envelope. She had just noticed it. It was emerald blue.

_That color... I had seen it... Where... Oh, my God, it's his eyes..._

Her hands trembled in expectation; it took seconds longer to tear open the envelope… A pale blue paper. Only one sentence was written in slant handwriting.

_Be safe._

No postage... No name of the sender... She understood. It was a reply from her detective for her warning. She clutched the paper, feeling the fluttering of her heart. Sherlock Holmes was alive. He had deciphered the meaning of her message. Somehow he had faked his death. Mycroft Holmes…must have been involved. She stood up, breaking a cup by accident.

Kate entered the room and asked if she was okay. Ms. Addler didn't answer. Instead, she made a dazzling smile; and danced around the room, holding her puzzled assistant. The woman prayed that someday she could see the detective again.

* * *

My knowledge about British army is negligible. I searched the Internet. If I am wrong, please let me know:) Thanks.


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